Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Noelle
"Noelle, are you free today? There's this amazing antique shop on South Street that just got in a collection of Victorian picture frames. You'd absolutely love them!"
Zoe's energetic voice bubbled through my phone. I sat on the edge of my bed, gazing out at the manor's gardens, hesitating.
A week had passed since that poker game.
Kholod had been... different. Still unpredictable as ever, but that suffocating need to control everything seemed to have eased up.
Yesterday, he'd even asked if I wanted to join the family hiking trip.
If it hadn't been for my period, I might've actually said yes.
"I'm not sure," I said quietly. "I'd need to ask—"
"Ask Kholod?" Zoe's voice carried a note of concern. "Noelle, you can always be honest with me. If something's wrong..."
"Nothing's wrong." I cut her off. "It's just... protocol."
After hanging up, I stood there for a moment. This would be my second outing this week. Would Kholod even agree?
Finally, I worked up the courage to go downstairs and find him. He was in his study with Dmitri, discussing business. When he saw me, he gestured for Dmitri to leave.
"What is it?" He looked up, those amber eyes settling on me.
"Zoe asked me to go shopping today. If you don't want me to—"
"Go." He cut me off, his tone flat but decisive. "Dmitri will arrange a car and security. Be back by six for dinner."
I stared at him, certain I'd misheard.
"You're saying yes?"
"Stay safe." He was already looking back at his papers.
South Street was one of Philadelphia's most artistic neighborhoods. Narrow streets lined with every kind of shop imaginable—tattoo parlors, vintage stores, independent bookshops, coffee shops... The air was thick with the aroma of coffee and the sound of street music.
Zoe was already waiting by the antique shop, wearing ripped jeans and a T-shirt with some abstract design, her hair thrown up in a messy ponytail. Her smile was as bright as sunshine.
"You made it!" She rushed over and enveloped me in a huge hug. "God, I was starting to think you'd be trapped in that big manor forever."
"I was starting to think that too."
She pulled me into the shop. "Look at these frames! The owner says he got them from an estate auction in England. All hand-carved—the details are so exquisite they'll make you weep."
The little shop was crammed with antiques—old typewriters, phonographs, paintings, china... Every piece carried the patina of years.
The elderly man with round glasses brightened when he saw Zoe. "Miss Harper, brought a friend?"
"This is Noelle, the one I told you about." Zoe introduced me enthusiastically.
The old man studied me appraisingly. "Does look like an artist. Come on, the frames are in the back."
We followed him to the rear of the shop. Against the wall stood about a dozen picture frames, each one beautifully carved—some with elaborate Baroque flourishes, others with cleaner neoclassical lines.
"Wow!" I couldn't help but gasp.
"Right?" Zoe leaned in close. "I knew you'd love them. Look at this one—see how detailed the roses are? You can even make out the texture of the petals."
I reached out to trace the carvings, feeling the warmth and grain of the wood beneath my fingertips. How many years had these frames witnessed? What paintings had they once displayed? Who had cherished them?
"Noelle, what are you thinking about?" Zoe asked.
"I'm wondering where all the paintings that used to be in these frames are now."
Zoe blinked, then laughed. "You always think of things no one else does. That's the artist's soul, I suppose."
"Maybe."
"Oh, Noelle, guess what!" Zoe picked up an old palette, practically vibrating with excitement. "I just landed this incredible project—painting a mural on a wall down by Fisherman's Wharf! Five whole stories tall!"
"God, how long will that take?"
"At least three months." She shrugged. "But the pay's fantastic, and I get complete creative freedom. The client just wants something ocean-themed. Everything else is up to me."
"That sounds incredible!"
"It really is," Zoe grinned. "Though I had an epic battle with the gallery owner about the exhibition layout.
That old codger insisted on hanging my paintings in the corner, muttering something about 'maintaining overall aesthetic harmony.
' I told him straight up—either display them prominently, or I withdraw. Guess what happened?"
"He caved?"
"Of course!" Zoe lifted her chin proudly. "Artists need backbone, or people will steamroll right over you."
"Speaking of which, how's Lily doing? Last time you mentioned she was sick." Lily was Zoe's orange tabby cat.
"She's completely recovered, but she caused absolute chaos."
"What happened?"
"That little demon punctured a whole tube of my brand-new cadmium yellow paint while I wasn't looking, then tore through the house like a maniac.
Now there are yellow paw prints on every surface imaginable.
" Zoe looked simultaneously exasperated and amused.
"It took me an entire day to clean up the mess. "
"Did you scold her?" I asked, laughing.
"Of course not, I couldn't bear to." Zoe sighed. "I've had her for three years. No matter how mischievous she gets, she's still my baby."
Her words made me laugh, and I felt unusually lighthearted.
"You mentioned wanting to see landscapes from around the world, right?"
"Yes."
"I have a photographer friend who's traveled to nearly every continent. She has thousands of photos. I should introduce you two sometime. She says every location has its own unique quality of light—completely distinctive."
"That would be wonderful! If I could see the photos, even better." My eyes lit up.
"Absolutely!" Zoe patted my shoulder. "We could organize a little gathering—coffee, photos, art talk. You could bring your paintings too, and we could all share ideas."
"I can hardly wait!"
"Slow down there, Noelle. She's currently communing with penguins in Antarctica. Won't be back until later this year."
"What a shame."
Zoe shrugged, and we wandered through several more shops, collecting art supplies and small treasures. When we grew tired, we ducked into a corner café.
The café was intimate, maybe six or seven tables, with walls covered in local artists' work. We ordered coffee and pastries, claiming a table by the window.
"Noelle," Zoe stirred her coffee thoughtfully, "have you ever considered... starting fresh?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean the travel blog, the painting—the things you're actually passionate about." She looked at me earnestly. "I can see this isn't the life you want. Why not change it?"
"Change..." I smiled ruefully. "It's not that simple."
"Why isn't it?" Zoe challenged. "Noelle, you're still young. You're two years younger than me, for crying out loud. You have plenty of time to pursue the life you actually want."
"I'll think about it," I said softly.
Just then, my phone rang. Isabella.
I stared at the name on the screen, hesitated for several seconds, then answered.
"Noelle!" Isabella's voice was honey-sweet and effusive. "Are you free today? There's this gorgeous new boutique that opened near Rittenhouse Square. Want to explore it together? We haven't had a proper girls' day in ages. I miss you so much."
I opened my mouth to respond, but scenes from that poker night flashed through my mind—how her seemingly innocent comments had twisted my kindness into calculated manipulation, ultimately sparking that explosive confrontation between Kholod and me.
Suddenly, the thought of spending time with her felt exhausting.
"Sorry, Isabella." I tried to keep my voice natural. "I already have plans today. Perhaps another time."
Silence stretched across the line.
"Oh... I see." Isabella's voice deflated noticeably. "All right then, another time. Are you with Zoe? You two have grown quite close."
"Yes."
"Well, I won't keep you then." Her voice grew smaller. "Goodbye."
"Goodbye."
I hung up and found Zoe watching me intently.
"Friend of yours?" she asked.
"Yes, we've known each other since childhood." I felt a complex mix of emotions.
"You don't really want to see her?" Zoe's intuition was sharp.
After a moment's silence, I nodded. "She's... changed recently."
Zoe didn't press for details, simply squeezed my hand. "Then trust your instincts."
Looking into her genuine eyes, I felt my throat tighten with emotion.
"Thank you, Zoe," I said quietly. "Thank you for being my friend."
"Don't be silly," she smiled warmly. "We are friends. The lasting kind. Now, try this cake—they make it absolutely divine here."
I returned to the manor at four o'clock. Walking into the foyer with my shopping bags, Darya informed me dinner would be at six and suggested I rest in my room first.
I took a long shower and changed into a simple dress—Kholod had finally abandoned his silk fixation. The dresses he'd been selecting lately were all cotton, exactly as I preferred.
Standing before the mirror, arranging my hair, I noticed the color in my cheeks and the brightness in my eyes. I felt genuinely happy. When I was with Zoe, I could temporarily forget all the oppression and pain, simply be an ordinary girl who loved painting and traveling.
Perhaps this was what true friendship meant—no need for defensiveness or second-guessing, just being together naturally, sharing happiness and sorrow.
And Isabella...
Thinking about that brief silence on the phone stirred complicated feelings.
We'd been friends since childhood—she'd been there for me through the darkest period after Father's death.
But since my marriage to Kholod, everything had been subtly shifting.
I understood her love of luxury, but I'd never imagined it would transform her into someone so. .. unfamiliar.
Maybe this, too, was part of growing up—learning to distinguish who was truly worth trusting.
"Ma'am, dinner is served," Darya announced from my doorway.